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“But I don’t mind that you’re quiet. It’s pleasant to be around. Gives a man room to think instead of dealing with ceaseless chatter.”
She blinked several times. He liked the absence of personality? She jerked her knee away, quickly standing, nearly bumping into him. “Forgive me, my lord, but I must powder my nose.” And then, in a flurry of skirts, she left the box without a backward glance.
But she’d hardly made it two steps down the dark hall when a pair of strong arms reached out to circle her waist.
She gasped in a breath, but Ethan’s voice cut her short. “It’s me.”
Her answer was to swat his hands away. “You don’t get to touch me.”
“We’re back to that, are we?”
“I don’t know what we’re back to. I was not the one who left without a word.”
“I left word, Red.”
She huffed, determined not to let him excuse away his absence. “Was there an emergency?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds, and she felt her heart sink. She’d held on to some small hope that there was a reasonable explanation why her feelings had not been important when he’d taken his leave. “It doesn’t matter. I came out here to tell you that I plan to fulfill my end of our arrangement, but you’re going to have to tell my mother something that convinces her to consider you as a suitor. She’s gotten it in her head that you’re almost out of money, and that is the one shortcoming she cannot abide.”
He grunted. “I should have known.”
“You’ll have to find a way to let her know. In the meantime, send Abby to my home and I’ll get her a list of events I’ll be attending so that you might come too. I can’t force my mother to accept your invitations, but I can be seen with you.”
He stared at her, silence stretching out between them. Finally, he spoke, “You’re angry with me for leaving.”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
She let out a long, irritated breath. “You’re muddling this discussion, Ethan. You don’t want me, and I don’t want you. We are a means to an end, remember? I’ll hold up my side of the bargain and then we’ll go our separate ways.”
Why did those words sting? Ethan stared down at the beauty before him, swallowing a large lump in his throat.
I don’t want you and you don’t want me… He agreed, didn’t he? Except he’d spent two sober weeks in London, and he’d never been lonelier.
None of his old friends or his old activities held much appeal. Instead, he’d been dreaming of country roads with streams and good trees for climbing.
And a red-haired woman who asked him not to drink and he didn’t, even though she’d never know what he’d been doing.
And then there was his uncle. He’d not seen the man, but he’d found himself penning a letter of apology one morning.
Him…apologizing.
“I don’t need Abby to come collect information, love. Just tell me, where will you be tomorrow?”
“The Prices’ ball.”
“Good. I’ll escort you.”
“Do you have an invitation?” she asked, her gaze searching his, confusion pulling at the corners of her eyes.
“I always have an invitation to everything,” he answered. But strictly, it wasn’t true. He didn’t seem to have an invitation to be close to her. And that still stung.
“But my mother—”
“Let me worry about her. Tomorrow night, we’ll make a good showing for my uncle. Dress conservatively and be ready to be your charming self.”
“All right.” She nodded, squaring her shoulders.
